Kredity
PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Notorious B.I.G.
Vocals
Faith Evans
Vocals
The Game
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Diana King
Songwriter
Harry Wayne Casey
Songwriter
Jack Knight
Songwriter
Stephen Garrett
Songwriter
Jayceon Terrell Taylor
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Game
Mixing Engineer
Andre Harris
Producer
Vidal Davis
Producer
Andrew Dawson
Recording Engineer
Texty
1970 Somethin' nigga I don't sweat the date my moms was late
So I had to plan my escape, out the skins
In this world the fly girls, tangeray and hennesey
Untill I call earl, 10 months in this gut, wut the fuck
I wish moms would hurry up, so I can get buck wild
Juvenile with the mics n shit, New York New York, ready for the likes of this (oh)
Then came the worst date, May 21st 2:19 was when my moma water burst
No spouse in the house, so she rolled herself
To the hospital, to see if she could get a little help
Umbilicle cords wrapped around my neck
I'm seein' my death, and I ain't even took my first step
I made it out I'm bringin' mad joy
The docter looked and said he's gonna be BAD BOY!
I remmember back in time, before all the homies died, before all the dollars and nines
I knew that I was goin' somewhere
Let me take you back in time, before I even got the rhyme, before I had nickels and dimes
I knew that I was goin' somewhere
Would 'Pac be alive, if you let 'Pac drive?
Swear to God to reverse it I give my left eye
With the right I visualized, the king of Bed-Stuy
Checkin' his daughter Tianna into junior high
If I was in Brooklyn, and B.I. was still alive, in 2006 it might sound like this
N.Y. 718 212, with Sue's Rendevouz
It's like Moulin Rouge
High fashion, up town Air Force Ones
And Vasquez, Puerto Ricans with fat asses
Lace Dutch Masters, we dump ashes, on models and S classes
For you bastards, catch a cab to Manhattan
With that broadway actin', you hype that belly shit
Would you get you capped, and wrapped in plastic
Tell the captain, S Roge was happennin'
Out here nor speak no evil, inside the Magnum
I remmember back in time, before all the homies died, before all the dollars and nines
I knew that I was goin' somewhere, let me take you back in time
Now I'm 13 smokin' blunts, makin' green
Or on the drug scene, fuck the football team
Risk it, rupt ur spleens, by the age of 16
Hearin' the coach scream, make my lifetime dream
I mean, I wanna blow up, stack my doe up
So school I didn't show up, and fuck my flow up
Mom said that I should grow up, and check myself
Before I wreck myself, disrespect myself
Put the drugs on the shelf, naww! I couldn't see it
Scarface king of New York, I wanna be it
Rap was secondary, money was neccessary
Untill I got encarcerated, kinda scarry
See 74' march 8, set me straight, not able to move behind a great steal gate
Time to contemplate, damn were did I fail
All the money I stacked, was all the money for bail
I remmember back in time, before all the homies died, before all the dollars and nines
I knew that I was goin' somewhere
Let me take you back in time, before I even got the rhyme, before I had nickels and dimes
I knew that I was goin' somewhere (yeah)
Writer(s): Christopher Wallace, Jean Claude Olivier, Stephen Ellis Garrett, Harry Casey, Rick Finch, Sean Combs, Jayceon Taylor, Tijuan T Frampton
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